Uchiha Sasuke knew the meaning of hatred.
He knew what it felt like for every atom in his being and for every firing muscle and every thought, to be consumed with white hot flames, pulsing and screeching to be released and to completely engulf the target of his rage. He understood well, the process that was involved in projecting that rage unto your target, to have it channel within you, to sing within your eardrums and push you to a point that not broke past all limitations.
He knew hatred.
He lived in it.
He bathed in it.
Every day he woke up and was greeted with silence, he was reminded of it.
Every morning he walked into a living room that still stank of dried blood and screams, he was lavished with it.
Hence, hatred was one of the few things he could sense.
Detect.
He had grown so accustomed to it, that he knew, he merely knew, when hatred was emitted in his general direction.
In his usual manner, disregarding of those playing at shinobi without a goal, he walked out of the classroom upon the lunch bell ringing.
Within seconds, the news of the confrontation was already on the lips of a third of the Academy, and people pointed at him, with poorly shushed whispers and curious, uncertain gazes.
Ignoring them proved to be more difficult than normal today, and his teeth clenched behind his lips, as he decided he was not going to be dealing with their pitiful brand of gossip whilst trying to get a meal.
His strode away from the Academy, moving onto the roads of Konoha as he decided to get his lunch elsewhere, his mind still focused slightly on the events of the morning.
The girl, what was her name again?
He furrowed his eyebrows slightly. He could not recall the name of the blond haired girl, as previously, she had merely been another face amongst the crowd of females who wished for his attention in one way or another.
Yet, she was different.
There was no denying those eyes, those orbs of hers which had stared him down unflinchingly, there had been true, pure hatred within them.
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Hatred, anger, and loathing – these were things that Sasuke believed himself intimately familiar with, however, he could not understand why her eyes possessed that much hatred for him.
He set his gaze on a small food stand not far away, his mind still deep in some form of thought.
He could not recall or think of anything he had done that would cause someone to look at him with such heavy eyes filled with hatred, to the point in which the person went as far to challenge him to a fight.
Truly, the girl was not worth his time.
The hate in her eyes was good, decent, enough that if she applied it with fervor to her training she would become strong, she would grow stronger at a magnificent rate. However, he did not have the time to humor her.
His target was that man.
His target was someone who had been ANBU Captain at age thirteen.
He could not afford to waste his time fighting people who were weaker than him, people to whom he would not grow any stronger from defeating, and people who could not even be considered as stepping stones in his path.
His lips twisted into a scowl.
Yet, at the same time, he couldn't refuse.
He would not give those at the Academy the illusion that he was somehow afraid of losing, or that he was somehow incapable of fighting against that girl.
Instead, a crushing defeat would cement it in their minds once and for all that he was the best, the strongest shinobi in their entire generation, and that it would be unwise for anyone to even think otherwise.
He came to a stop at the small shop.
It did not necessarily matter what he ate at this point just as long as he had something in his stomach.
He took a seat, ignoring the noise around him, as he met the face of the brown haired waitress.
"Hello, what can I get you?"
He blinked.
He had momentarily been lost in thought he had not even checked the sign outside to confirm what food this place sold.
"I want some – "
"Yo Ayame-neechan! I'm back! Can I get the Naruto special, and make it double! I've got some hard training to –"
There was a momentary silence, as dull black eyes turned to face brilliant blue.
"YOU!"
Sasuke grit his teeth.
It was like the universe had decided that his day would be ruined by blonds.
No, he was not going to deal with this right now.
He stood up from his seat and turned around, only to let out a 'gurk' as he felt someone drag the back of shirt, forcing the front end to tighten at his neck.
"Let go of me dobe!"
"No way! Ayame-nee would kill me if I chased away a customer, even if it's you teme!"
"That's none of my business, now let go of me!"
"Not until you've bought a bowl of ramen-ttebayo!"
What the hell was up with the idiot's grip?
And why the fuck was this idiot biting the hilt of a katana?
Sasuke knew there was no way he should have had that much power to be able to actually hold on to the back of his shirt with that much force, making him unable to leave.
"I said, let go!"
A heavy echo of ripping cloth resounded throughout the small shop. He stumbled forward, free at last, only to turn around and spot the familiar blonde boy holding unto a large part of his black shirt, the part which had the brilliant white and red fan of the Uchiha Clan on it. His back was now fully exposed, as his shirt was now more or less a tattered rag than it was any measure of cloth.
"Er… oops?" Naruto said as he removed the Katana from his mouth.
It was official.
Uchiha Sasuke hated blondes.
"DOBE!"